The Invulnerable Man
by Writing Fangirl for hire
Summary: A.N: John Watson is a crimeless consulting criminal. He gives others ideas, and sometimes even helps plan, for elaborate crimes. His partner, Moriarty, has committed crimes; but as far as the British Government (or any government for that matter) knows, John has never actually committed a crime. Oh yeah, and Sherlock may or may not be a woman.
1. Chapter 1

_**A.N: John Watson is a crimeless consulting criminal. He gives others ideas, and sometimes even helps plan, for elaborate crimes. His partner, Moriarty, has committed crimes; but as far as the British Government (or any government for that matter) knows, John has never actually committed a crime. Sherlock Holmes has a personal vendetta against Jim Moriarty. Oh yeah, and Sherlock may or may not be female.**_

_**Writer's notes: I don't own BBC Sherlock. **_

"John Hamish Watson," Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade says, voice ringing through the room. All of the agents and detectives surrounding him look at the picture of the short blonde man. They all stay silent, waiting for Lestrade to continue. He obliges.

"The Crimeless Consulting Criminal. The Invulnerable man. Just a few of the terms used to describe him. Intelligence given to us, says that he works with Jim Moriarty, one of the UK's most dangerous men.

Now don't get me wrong, Watson has been arrested plenty of times, enough that he addresses everyone in the department on first name basis comfortably, but there is _never_ enough evidence to keep him. Every time we've ever interrogated him, he gives a sarcastic remark and lawyers up. He's never been in more then a holding cell. Him and Moriarty are Co-leaders in a- no wait, they're co-consultants for a world wide undergound crime ring. However, we've only ever discovered, with actual evidence, Moriarty actively participating in a crime. Never Watson.

But just yesterday, November 29, at 13:00 hours Watson informed us that something 'big' was happening. We don't know what, we don't know where, but Watson did tell us that it would happen on Christmas Eve. Giving us 3 weeks and 3 days to find out what it is, where it's happening, and how to stop it.

You will find your instructions in the file you were given, along with a list of who you answer too and who we are working with. Everyone please note that Sherlock Holmes has been listed," everyone let out an unhappy groan, "yeah yeah, I know, but Sherlock has led us to Moriarty before, so perhaps with Sherlock's help, we can find Watson. So play nice everyone. Dismissed," Lestrade finished. Everyone shuffled out, grumbling about Sherlock. Everyone except Lestrade and woman with messy black hair.

"Ah, you made it," Lestrade said when he noticed the woman. He nodded towards the file on his table, indicating she should take it. She walked over and picked it up, the whole time not looking away from the phone she was typing away on.

"Why Detective Inspector, of course I came!" Her phone buzzed, she grinned at it, "It was the nurse with the mole over her left eyebrow," She told him smugly.

"Which one was that? The Scottish ginger or the Cockney brunette?" Lestrade asked, quickly making a note on his phone.

"Cockney brunette."

"Thanks."

"So..." she said, "Anything I need to know?"

"Yeah, here's his address," Lestrade said, handing her a piece of paper.

"My sister?" She inquired.

"Yep, she said to specifically give it to you. And only you. I try to stay on your sister's good side, so I obliged," He answered carefully. The woman smiled mirthlessly.

"Probably a good idea. I'll go see him today," she said.

"Please be careful Sherlock," Lestrade pleaded. Sherlock smiled at him.

"I'm always careful," she said with a smug grin. Lestrade just rolled his eyes as she walked out the door.

Sherlock stood in front of the gate where the cab had dropped her off. The gate blocked off a long paved lane that led up to a mansion. The property was huge, and well taken care of.

"Can I help you miss?" Sherlock her from behind. She turned and saw a nice looking, but chubby, man. She deduced him silently in her mind and determined that he posed little threat, and was in fact a butler.

"Yes actually. I'm here to see Mr. Watson," She said smiling sweetly, "My Name is Sherlock."

"Not Sherlock Holmes?! The famous detective?" The man said with a hint of awe. Sherlock smiled at him again.

"The same," She answered. The man smiled at her.

"Where's the deerstalker?" he asked. Sherlock groaned.

"Everyone asks about that stupid hat. I regret ever looking at it."

"Sorry. I'm Mike by the way," he said. Mike walked over to the gate.

"How long have you been working for Mr. Watson, Mike?" Sherlock asked as Mike unlocked that gate.

"Oh for a few years now."

"How long have you been getting it on with the chef?" Sherlock asked with a smirk.

"What?! Oh... for a year," Make answered, blushing heroically. Sherlock smiled at his decision to not fight her deductions, "Come on then," Mike said, motioning for Sherlock to follow him. She did.

As they walked into the mansion, Sherlock found herself impressed (which isn't easy to do). Baker Hall was an impressive house. The main hall was completely white, white marble floors, white walls, white furniture, a white Baby Grand Piano, and a brilliant white chandelier.

Mike led her from the main hall to a sitting room. This room was painted a friendly shade of yellow. The couch was white with brown pillows and the sitting chairs were brown with white pillows. A oak coffee table sat in between the couch and the chairs, and was decorated with a beautiful glass vase filled with white roses.

"Stay here while I let John know he has a guest," Mike told her. Sherlock smiled and sat politely on the couch. As soon as Mike was out of sight, Sherlock stood up and went to one of the mirrors, the only wall decoration in the room. She did a quick study of her makeup and determined it suitable. She was wearing a purple shirt that was admittably tighter then it probably should be. She had the top two buttons undone, as was her fashion, while the button's across her chest begged to be. Sherlock wished she was wearing pants and boots instead of her black pencil skirt and stilettos. They weren't very tall stilettos, but they weren't the most stable either. She silently smoothed out a wrinkle in her skirt.

"Hello," a warm steady voice said. Sherlock whirled around on the ball of her foot. He stood solidly, but held a cane in his right hand. He was a little shorter than she would be without her stilettos but stood erect and proud. He had blonde hair and blue eyes, and was currently sporting an easy smile. He wore a tan sweater, that made his blue eyes more intense, and jeans.

"Are you going to say something Ms. Holmes or are you going to just deduce me all day?" He asked with an amused grin. Sherlock stayed silent, eyes wide at how normal and friendly he seemed. He raised an eyebrow at her expectantly.

"Sherlock," she finally blurted out, "Please call me Sherlock."

"Well then, Sherlock, would you like some tea? Kettle's on."

"No, but I'll take coffee if you have any, thank you," She answered. He smiled at her.

"Well of course I have coffee."

* * *

_**Did you enjoy it? Favorite, follow, and review. Tell me what you think! Give me suggestions. What do you think John and Sherlock should do together? Also, if you are finally over "The Fall" then I have a suggestion. Go to Youtube and search AVbyte Sherlock the Musical. Watch it. Then come back and tell me what you think.**_


	2. Chapter 2

"- and the witness is over there," the police officer said. Sherlock hadn't been listening until up to that point. The police were trying to be helpful. That means that Lestrade told them she was coming.

"Good, good. I need to talk to him. I also need a coffee. I don't care how it is just get me some," Sherlock said as she strode off towards where the officer had pointed. The officer behind her sputtered at her blatantly rude behavior. She could be perfectly nice when she _had_ to. That didn't mean that she was going to. It's much more simple to be rude and still get what she wanted then to try to tactfully get it.

Sherlock made her way through the crowd of policemen and detectives.

"_No._" Sherlock breathed when she saw the witness. He was short, blonde, was wearing a black jacket and jeans, and held a cane in his hands. _John Watson._ _  
_

Sherlock felt her pace quicken as she adjusted her coat and scarf. She ran a hand through her hair that she had just barely remembered to brush this morning. John turned around and saw her. His face immediately lit up and he ran a hand through his own hair.

Sherlock felt something strange. She hesitated to try figure out what it was. Oh, yes. She was smiling, an honest to goodness smile. Nothing fake. A real smile.

She was standing in front of him.

"Hello Mr. Watson," Sherlock said, still smiling.

"I thought I told you during coffee that you aren't to call me _Mr._ Watson. It sounds to formal. I insist that you must call me John," He said.

"Well then, hello John."

"Hello Sherlock. I suppose you came to question me," John said.

"Actually I came to see if you wanted to get out of here. I need you to in a more natural environment," Sherlock said, "How about coffee?"

"I'll take tea. Will they let you take me?" John asked.

"If they don't I'll kidnap you," Sherlock said with a promising grin. Suddenly a silver car pulled up. Lestrade and Sally got out of it. Sherlock sighed and rolled her eyes, "They can't leave me alone," She whispered to John. He chuckled softly.

"I wouldn't understand why? I'm sure you're just the perfect model for proper socialization," John said quietly as Lestrade and Sally walked towards them. Sherlock gave a soft snort.

"I'd expect that he'd be nicer to me. I haven't made one comment about him and my sister's love affair," She whispered. Her and John were standing very close, so all she had to do was lean a little bit to whisper right into his ear. He chuckled again, a noise that filled Sherlock with happiness.

"I heard about that. Your DI is practically having an affair with the British Government," John whispered back right before Lestrade stopped right in front of them. He put his hands on his hips and looked from Sherlock to John and back. He handed Sherlock a cup of coffee.

"Really Sherlock? I specifically asked them to let you on their crime scene and you go ahead and insult them. Not to mention you were completely rude, I mean you could have at least said please ya know," Lestrade said to her sternly. John looked over at Sherlock to see how she'd respond.

"Oh, Detective Inspector why would I need to do that. I obviously got my coffee without saying please," She responded as she absentmindedly got out her phone. She started texting someone.

"Did you learn nothing from Myka's lessons on social obligation?" Lestrade asked irritatedly.

"Did you think that you could keep you and Myka's love affair a secret from me?" Sherlock instantly shot back. The silver haired detective's face got red.

"That's not any of your business Sherlock!" He snapped.

"Of course it is. She's my sister," Sherlock said, "Actually it should probably be the business of all of England. After all, if you start to distract my sister... England might fall."

"Get out of here Sherlock. Leave, right now," Lestrade said, pinching the bridge of his nose. Sally stood behind him, hands on her hips, lips drawn in a tight line.

"I'm not done questioning the witness," Sherlock said, finally putting her phone back in her pocket.

"Don't you mean flirting, freak?" Sally asked from where she stood. Before any one knew what was happening, John was across the distance between him and Sally. He had grabbed the front of her coat and pulled her face close to his. Sally's eyes were wide, fear obvious in them.

"What makes you think that it is okay to call _anyone_ a freak?!" He spit out, his words sounded like pure venom, "Let alone, the most brilliant woman on Earth. What makes you think that that is acceptable?!" Sally looked absolutely terrified, her knees were starting to give. Some people had turned to watch, all of them were curious, some looked almost scared. Lestrade was dumbfounded. Sherlock was fascinated by the sudden mood swing.

"I-I..." Sally trailed off.

John finally released Sally and stood back. He smiled, he looked as if he had just invited her over for tea. Sally's knees were shaking.

"Have a good day folks. I'm going out with Sherlock for a cuppa," John said as he strode past them. Sherlock smiled and handed Sally her cup of coffee as she followed John.

Someone who can strike fear into the heart of Sally Donovan, her kind of man.

"So," Sherlock said as they ducked under the crime scene tape, "that was unexpected." She heard John chuckle beside her.

"Yeah well, she had it coming," he answered. They walked in silence for a few moments, turning onto a busy street.

John reached over and tugged on Sherlock's wrist to stop her. She jumped at the contact, and pulled her hand away. John tilted his head in question at her reaction but shrugged it off.

"Here's a good place," he said, gesturing at the cafe behind him. Sherlock looked at the sign and nodded.

"The manager owes me a favor," She said simply.

"Really?" He asked as he opened the door for her. A man bumped into him and _he_ mumbled an apology. Sherlock raised an eyebrow in the obvious change in attitude from earlier. They entered the cafe and Sherlock manuevered them to a small table near the window.

"Yeah, I got his son off of death row by proving that he was in the middle of a love affair with his parole officer at the time. It wasn't that hard," Sherlock rambled absentmindedly as she undid her scarf and coat. She was wearing a dark blue blouse and black dress slacks.

"That's amazing," John said as he took off his own coat. They were silent as a busy waitress dropped some menus off at their table and promised to be "right back hons". In companionable silence they looked over their menus. Finally Sherlock had to ask.

"Why?"

"Why what?" John asked looking up from his menu. Sherlock stared at him, obvious confusion on her face.

"Why did you defend me to Sally?"

"Oh, was that that bitch's name? Well you don't deserve to insulted. You're brilliant, beautiful, and observant. She's just jealous," John said. Sherlock's eyebrows knitted together as she silently pondered that. She was about to speak when the waitress showed up.

"Sherlock!" She exclaimed, "Haven't seen you in awhile. How are you?"

"I'm fine... Katy?" Sherlock guessed. The waitress sighed.

"Michelle," she answered tiredly.

"Michelle right. I knew that."

"Sure you did," Michelle answered, rolling her eyes, "Now what can I get ya dear? On the house, for you and your boyfriend."

"Oh, I'm not her boyfriend," John said. Michelle smiled at him a little too sweetly for Sherlock's taste.

"Well it's been so long since we've seen Sherly with _anybody,_ we're just happy to see her her with somebody," Michelle said.

"I'll take coffee, one sugar, no cream," Sherlock said briskly, snapping her menu shut. Michelle nodded and jotted down Sherlock's order. She turned to John.

"And you hon?"

"Yeah, I'll take tea, no sugar, one cream," John said handing her both his and Sherlock's menus.

"Alright hon, I'll be back with your orders," Michelle said with a sweet smile which John returned as she left. John and Sherlock stared at each other from across the table. John smiling, Sherlock staying as placid as usual.

The silence wasn't, as you would say, "companionable". In fact it was downright awkward. Ultimately it was too uncomfortable for John and he cleared his throat.

"So, Sherlock," He began, "you don't have a girlfriend?" He decided to start with that so it didn't seem like he was hitting on her. Which he most certainly was _not_.

Sherlock rolled her eyes and huffed with annoyance. She turned to look out the window.

"Why does everyone assume that I'm homosexual?" Sherlock asked herself out loud.

"Sorry, it's just that the Waitress sort of implied that you were at least bi," John explained. Sherlock threw him a sideways glance that told him that she wasn't impressed with his excuse,

"The 'implication', as you call it, wasn't obvious enough that just any idiot would pick up on it," Sherlock started robotically, "In fact, '_anybody_' could refer to either gender. However, you choose to go for the female gender. That tells me either two things; one, you think that I am interested in you but you are not interested in me so you suggest something else, or two, you are interested in me but don't want to sound interested in me."

John smiled.

"What makes you flatter yourself that I might be interested in _you_," John asks with a stoic smile. Sherlock turns to him. He could see she was trying not to look smug.

"You showed immediate interest in my relationships when Michelle commented about it. Also you defended my pride earlier. Calling me, and I quote, 'the most brilliant woman on earth'," Sherlock says.

"_Tis the mind that makes the body rich,_" John quoted.

"Shakespeare," Sherlock said promptly.

"Yeah and I'm sure that didn't help to lower the size of your ego any," John comments. Sherlock let a smug smirk slide onto her face.

"Want to come to my place to 'question' me?" John asked.

"I've already solved the case, but sure, why not?" Sherlock said.

"Michelle, can we get those to go?!" John called out to the waitress. She smiled and nodded.

They got their drinks and headed back to John's mansion.

* * *

_**Sooooooooooooooooo? How was it? I seriously don't know. After all a writer is his/hers own worse critic. **_

_**Write On**_

_**WFFH**_


	3. Chapter 3

**_First of all. Thank you to __sass-mistress-lucifer__ for your review. Your suggestions were great. Your comments lifted my spirits. And I don't think you are a butt. :) So, after taking your suggestions into consideration, and after working hard, I give you this chapter. This one's for you!_**

**_So, without further ado. Allons-y!_**

**_Write On_**

**_WFFH_**

John sat in his favorite chair and looked at the note in his hand. One of Jim's goons had bumped into him at while he was with Sherlock and had pressed it into his hand.

It didn't surprise him at all. Jim was the type of man who did things at an inopertune time just for the hell of it. It was one of the things that made working with Jim so interesting.

It was one of those things that made double-crossing Jim so dangerous.

"John," a soft, smooth voice purred in his ear. John turned to face the scantily dressed woman.

"Irene." John's placid voice replied. He turned back to his note and tried very hard to ignore her, and to not stare down her shirt- which she was quite obviously inviting him to do. Skinny fingers started massaging his shoulders. He tried equally as hard to ignore those.

"He's getting bored John," Irene purred in his ear, "You know how dangerous he is when he's _bored._ You have to give him something."

"Jim needs to remember his size and be a little bit more patient," John stated, annoyance seeping into his tone. Irene stopped massaging his shoulders and moved around to sit on the couch across from John.

"He needs to remember that I don't work for him," John finishes.

"Of course not," Irene starts, "but I think that you need to remember that you owe him your skin. And if he gets too bored, he might just skin you." John chuckles.

"But then who would he get entertain him? Hmm?" Irene smiles stoically across the room.

"I don't think, I have that much to worry about. Besides, I'm working on it," John says, "Tell Jim that."

"Or Yoooouuu could," a sing-song voice called out. John turned around in his chair to see Jim Moriarty standing in his doorway. John frowned.

"Oh John," He said as meandered forward, stopping every so often to look at an object, "I'm soOOoo boored. Everyone is boring John. Except..."

"Except who?" John probed.

"The Holmes sisters," Jim sang. John's eyes grew wider.

"Mostly the younger one," Jim continued placidly, "The older one needs to loosen up a bit. She acts like the fate of the world is in her hands."

"It practically is isn't it?" John asks, forcing a smile on his face, "All our files on Myka Holmes states that she claims to have a 'minor' roll in the British Government, but that would be like calling you a small town gang leader." Jim smiles.

"Yes, it is. Myka's fun to play with, but Sherlock... Sherlock's the real joy," he says. He stops and sits on the coffee table.

"We hear you've visited with Sherlock," Irene cut in, "Find out anything we can use against her?" She gave him a "entertain him" look. JOhn sighed.

"Deep inside herself she has issues with who she is. Which is why she overcompensates with her rude and prideful behavior," John says as he casually picks at a spot on his jeans. He said it as casually as if he had just stated the weather.

"Because of her rude behavior, she doesn't have many friends. The friends she does have however are loyal to her and she's overprotective and loyal to them," John finishes.

"Brilliant," Jim said, "It's so much easier to tell people what to do when you have their pressure point under your thumb." John stood up and looked down at the man, a snarl somehow made it's way onto his face.

He had a bad feeling about this.

"What do you mean?" John asked bitterly. He heard Irene stand up and cross over to him, she put her hand on his arm as Moriarty started speaking.

"How's Harriet, John?"

"You bastard," John said, forcing his voice to remain calm, "You didn't."

"Oh but I did," Jim said with a smug look on his face, he stood up and Irene moved to his side, releasing John.

"You've started to become a little over confident in yourself John," Jim continued, "You've begun to act is if you don't need my help as much. You've forgotten about Afghanistan." John felt cold at the word.

He most certainly had _not_ forgotten it. In fact he seemed cursed to never forget it.

"So I took some precautions and moved Harriet to a facility where she'll be safe," Jim continued. John started to sigh in relief, "Or at least she'll be safe as long as you stay in line Johnny boy." John's relief immediately disappeared into the cold gripping reality. Jim took a step forward and got in his face.

"We've worked well together for years John, and we've got something big coming. But you were wrong, I _do _own you. I've let you, and everyone, feel safe under the illusion that you are free, that we're co-workers. But John, I have never owned someone more then I own you now," Jim said, his voice lowered, "Don't mess this up." Jim backed away and turned to leave.

Despite the cold feeling John had deep inside himself, he wasn't scared, he was closer to angry. He kept up a calm facade though.

"See you later then?" John asked calmly as the man strode through the door way.

"NO YOU WON'T," Jim sang, "I'll see you though." John's eyes narrowed as Irene winked at him flirtatiously and left. None of Irene's flirting ever bothered him. He'd been working with her for over a year now and found that when he managed to squirm his way past all of her facades that it was all just self preservation.

Losing a fatal game, that was Irene's greatest fear. Her pressure point is her secrets. As John had come to discover; Irene puts up a face that says no one can discover her secrets when, in the end, that's what she's terrified of. Because if someone has her secrets, then someone has her life in their hands.

Not even Jim Moriarty has her secrets. Neither does John, and John is great at disarming people. Physically, intellectually, and emotionally. Perhaps that's why Jim kept him around. John had this ability that Jim could only dream of having. People trusted John.

Even Moriarty had trust in John to a certain level.

But that trust was waning. John was running out of time.

* * *

"Hello Mr. Watson." The voice from behind him said. John turned around to look at its owner. She was taller then him, with soft brown hair, and wore a simple black dress that accentuated her figure nicely. She wore no jewelry and very little make up.

"Hello Ms. Holmes. Thank you for seeing me," John said. Myka Holmes stood in front of him, twirling her umbrella, and trying oh so very hard not to look like she had somewhere more important to be.

"Please call me Myka," she said as she crossed around to the other side of the desk to sit, "What can I do for you Mr. Watson?"

She didn't smile. John got the impression that she only smiled when she needed to, or when she wanted to be irritating. Automatically John tried one of his most disarming smiles.

"Please, call me John."

"Well then, John, would you care to sit down and tell me why you are here?" Myka asked, seemingly unaffected by John's friendliness.

"Ah yes. Of course," John said as he sat, "Well Myka... I guess why I'm really here is because I'm running out of time and I've been careless." Myka clasped her hands on her lap.

"And why are you running out of time?" she asked.

"Myka, I know that you know who I am. I know that you know what I do for a living. However I also know that you are looking for a way to get inside Moriarty's network and are lost in the way of progress," John said, Myka sat straighter, her eyes narrowed.

"The thing is... through certain situations I have come to find myself in alliance with James Moriarty. I've been working with him for a year now, ever since I returned from active duty in Afghanistan. This was never the path I planned to take in life, and now I find myself wanting to leave this path," John continued, "However, that is a very dangerous thing for someone to want to do. Jim would rather kill me than to have to reset his network."

"Are you proposing what I think you are proposing John?" Myka asked.

"I help get you inside, you help me survive getting out," John said firmly. Myka clasped her hands in front of her face, she expressed no emotion.

"And just how do you propose I do that?"

"Something big's coming... for my own safety I can't tell you what, but I can tell you that I'm the one doing most of the planning for it," John gave her a sly smile, "I suggest that you decide to help me get out before I decide that I'm okay staying where I am. And trust me Ms. Myka Holmes, if I decide that then your in for a problem of national security."

"Are you threatening me?" Myka asked with disbelief. John smiled again.

"No, of course not," He said pleasantly, "I'm just... giving you more motivation. Because, sure you could have someone take me out right here and now, and no one would know; but you do that and you've just taken a few steps back in the progress of taking down Moriarty's network. And Moriarty will take a few steps forward in the way of making sure you never do." Myka returned John's placid smile.

John is very convincing, he might even be threatening to someone of less power, but at the same time he has this pleasant way of putting things that makes you think you'd be getting a gift by shooting yourself in your foot.

"I'll see what we can do. Are you absolutely sure there's no information you can give me on the 'big event'?" Myka asked. John smiled.

"Exhaustively."

* * *

It had been a hard day at work. Rubbish Czechoslovakian elections, dull Algerian represenatives, and those mindless idiots from Washington D.C. Oh yes, and then there was the Watson meeting.

Myka rubbed her temples. It was hard sometimes, having to make such desisions. But she wouldn't dare leave the world in the hands of today's idiots.

"Hard day at the office?" came sort of gravelly voice of her lover, soothing and romantic.

"It was mostly just boring international issues," She answers looking up into his sharp, loving, brown eyes. She can't help it, she smiles.

"It's looking like it's going to be a lot better night though," Myka says with a playful grin, "I'm going to turn off my cell phone."

Greg smiled, he knew what that meant. He happily leaned down and kissed Myka.

"Good," he mumbled against her mouth.

* * *

"Oh, god," Sherlock commented quietly to John, "He had sex with my sister last night." They were watching Lestrade approach through the windows.

Gregory Lestrade had walked in to the Yard in a great mood this morning. It didn't even dampen when he saw Sherlock and her new bull dog sitting in his office, watching him.

"I've met your sister," John whispered back, "she never seemed like the _shagging one of my little sister's only friends _type. She seemed more like she had-"_  
_

"A stick up her ass?"

"Yeah," John said with a chuckle.

Finally, Greg entered the office.

"Alright Sherlock, want do you want?" He asked, although he didn't sound as grumpy as he normally does. Sherlock just barely bit back "_for you to stop fucking my sister._"

"I wanted to know if you had any cases for me," Sherlock asked, "I'm already quite bored."

"What? Doesn't your new partner provide any relief from that?" Greg asked with a smug grin.

"Not her boyfriend," John mumbled. Greg just rolled his eyes.

"Sorry Sherlock, nothing in that you'd be interested in. Just a few suicides that's all. There's not even a real case," he said. Sherlock pouted at him.

"What? It's not my fault that no one's getting murdered. In fact I rather like when people don't get killed," Greg said, he couldn't help himself from adding, "Sorry I'm a normal human being."

John's eyes flashed and he opened his eyes to say something.

"Come on John," Sherlock said, "If I'm going to be bored I might as well do it somewhere where there's comfortable chairs." John closed his mouth and stood up with her. He gave Lestrade a look and held the door open for Sherlock.

"Would you like some tea?" He asked Sherlock as they walked out the door.

"Yeah, but I want you to make it. I've never had tea as good as yours," She answered. John looked at his phone.

"Yeah okay, but let's go to your place. I want to see some of your experiments."

Sherlock grinned.

* * *

_**Whoo! Got that done *wipes sweat off brow*. How was it? Any suggestions? Requests? I'd love to here what you think.**_

_**Allons-y**_

_**Write On,**_

_**WFFH**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Hi! If you are reading this it means that either you've been following this story, or you are probably bored and just need something to read. If the first, YAY! Thank you so much for your support! If the second, YAY! I hope you like it. Sorry it took so long to post guys. School is bitchy.**_

_**Spoilers: John may or may not end up in Sherlock's bed near the end. But don't worry, I'll keep it T rated.**_

_**As always, Allons-y!**_

_**Write On,**_

_**WFFH**_

* * *

The detective got off the phone as the car pulled up. The person who got out, however, wasn't who he expected to see.

"You aren't Sherlock Holmes," he states. The blonde man smiles at him and reaches out his hand.

"Not in the slightest. John Watson at your service," he said. The detective shook John's had, "Can I set up a video link here?"

"Uh, yeah...?" He said. John got a laptop bag out of the car and opened it up.

After tinkering around a little bit John got a live video feed going with Sherlock.

"I still don't understand why you couldn't come," John mumbled to her.

"Because John. I'm dreadfully moody and this case is lower than a six. As we discussed, anything lower than a six doesn't require my actual presence or me being involved that much," Sherlock said. She sat on the other side of the connection wearing nothing but a sheet and, John hoped, her underclothes. But who could be sure with Sherlock.

"Whatever. What about the girl?"

"Completely innocent. I would list all the reasons why she is but you've told me that my deductions can come out a little rude when I'm rambling," Sherlock said, she sounded annoyed, "You're just mad that I beat you at Cluedo."

John rolled his eyes.

"So where are we?" Sherlock asked as John walked around with the laptop.

"An old mill I think," John answered.

"Show me everything."

So John spent the next 15 minutes walking around the crime scene with a laptop with Sherlock's face on it. Every so often she would ask him to stop, or get closer to something, or get a better angle. It was almost amusing to the police to watch him do it.

Suddenly a helicopter appeared and landed on the property. John was in the middle of something with Sherlock when it arrived so he didn't notice.6

"It's for you Mr. Watson," a young officer told him. John held his hand out as he ended the video call with Sherlock, expecting a phone to be put in it. When nothing happened he turned to the young man who pointed at the helicopter.

"Brilliant," John grumbled under his breath.

* * *

"Sherlock, I've paged you 6 times," Mrs. Hudson, the cook, said as she opened the door to Sherlock's suite. Sherlock had been staying at John's ever since she got kicked out of her old flat by the landlord.

A few men walked in behind Mrs. Hudson.

"I shot it," Sherlock stated, not looking up from the laptop.

"Oh that's the fifth one this week," Mrs. Hudson mumbled to herself. One of the men took a few steps towards Sherlock.

"Ms. Holmes, you need to get dressed," He said. Sherlock glanced up at him and disparaging look.

"Um... no," She stated as she turned back to the laptop. In the reflection of the screen she saw the man nod at the other one. The other man quickly headed in the direction of Sherlock's closet and retrieved a dress and shoes for her. The items were soon placed on top of the laptop.

"You're going to want to be dressed where you're going," the man said. Sherlock looked him up and down a few times before getting a smug look.

"Oh I already know where I'm going, and trust me, I'd rather go like this," She said with a grin.

One thing's for sure, it was interesting getting her into the helicopter without exposing her bare body to the world.

* * *

John walked around Buckingham Palace. He liked it here. If he happened to decide to stay in the criminal consulting business, then he would plan on taking out the Royal Family so he could live in Buckingham Palace.

He also had a serious urge to try and swipe something, just to see if he could. He was thinking about whether he could make it out the door with one of the crystal ash trays.

After turning a few corners, going down a few corridors, and getting lost only once he found himself in a large sitting room. Sherlock sat on the couch wrapped up in one of her sheets, her hair was all tangled and messy. John wondered whether she'd washed in the past couple days.

Sherlock turned and looked at him, an amused expression on her face. John raised his eyebrows and glanced around before looking back at her.

_Why are we here?_ He asked her silently. She made a face and shrugged her shoulders to say she didn't know. John went and sat down beside her, there was a dress and shoes on the table in front of them. They continued to be silent until John leaned over and looked at her sheet covered body.

"Are you wearing any under clothes?" He asked.

"Nope," Sherlock quickly answered. John burst out laughing. Sherlock gave one of her rare, pleased smiles and giggled softly.

"I've always wanted to be naked in Buckingham Palace," She added, which just made John laugh harder.

"Some people dream of just visiting Buckingham Palace. But not Sherlock Holmes! She wants to visit, naked!" John said through his laughter. Sherlock gave a soft laugh.

"Which leads me to my next question, Sherlock," John says as he calms down, "Why are we here?"

"I don't know."

"I mean seriously," John paused, "Are we going to see the Queen? Oh god, I want to ask her for a cigarette." Sherlock laughed some more, a sound that pleased John. Suddenly Myka walks in. The two quieted for a short second.

"Apparently yes," Sherlock said. Which through them into a state of laughter again. Myka glared at them disapprovingly.

"Are you two going to grow up and act like adults?" She asked sharply. John calms first so he answers.

"I'm her landlord who runs about and helps her solve crimes and her greatest dream of visiting Buckingham Palace naked has been fulfilled, I wouldn't hold out much hope," He says, which makes him and Sherlock laugh again.

Myka just shook her head and sat down. Soon a man in uniform walks in and John jumps up, snapping to attention. The man returns the salute and walks over to Myka and Sherlock.

"Thank you for coming Ms. Holmes and Mr. Watson," he said. John and Sherlock both nod before he continues.

"Well, I'll get right to the point,"

"That's always best," Sherlock mumbles. She receives an exasperated look from Myka but the man ignores her.

"A special person has been involved in a... scandal. Have you ever heard of Irene Adler?" He says.

Sherlock and John's reactions were different. While Sherlock just raised a eyebrow and shook her head John smiled with fake indifference to that name.

"Irene Adler," Myka says, "gives out... recreational scolding. For a pretty price too. She's a dominatrix." Sherlock cocks her head to the side, listening attentively.

"She's also called, 'the Woman'," Myka says. John smirks slightly.

"Yeah, she'd like to be called that," He says. Everyone turns to him with questioning looks. Especially Sherlock. Myka's eyebrows have raised.

"I've, uh, associated with Irene," John explained. The man's eyes grow wider and Myka shoots him a questioning gaze. Sherlock however has turned back to Myka and gone blank faced.

"What," the man starts to croak out. He clears his throat, "What is your association with Miss Adler?"

"Oh nothing like what you are thinking," John quickly says with a knowing grin. He can here the slightest sigh of relief from Sherlock. He continues, "Irene and I have... well I mean, I have helped Irene with some..." he trails off as he tries to think of how to explain his relationship with Irene without probing more questions.

"Did you meet her through her brother?" Myka suggests. John didn't know she had a brother, but he took the chance.

"Yeah, well I mean sorta. I came home with her brother one Christmas, she thought I was his boyfriend. Poor Sebastian flushed five shades of red," John said. He decided that for this purpose Sebastian Moran, Moriarty's favorite sniper, would be Irene's brother. He gave a laugh at the thought.

"After that I helped Irene... discourage some unsavory characters whose fancy she had caught," John lied. Sherlock turned to him.

"You pretended to be her boyfriend? Or _were_ you her boyfriend?" she asked. John laughed.

"_Me_? Her boyfriend? Ha! No, I wasn't her boyfriend. Irene is Lesbian," John said. Sherlock sighed again. But then John thought about it.

"Actually she's bi." Sherlock tensed up a bit, "Well _actually_ she's sapiosexual. But she swings both ways." Myka was giving him a "shut up" look, so he did.

"So what can you tell us about her?" the man asked.

"What do you need to know?"

"First," Sherlock interrupted, "What's the case? And who's my client?"

"Well, Miss Adler has some photos of her and your client. Some compromising photos," Myka said.

"And my client is?"

"We're in Buckingham Palace, Sherlock. Do the deduction," Myka answered cockily. Sherlock folded her arms across her chest. Sure she could figure it out if she wanted to, but Myka was being cocky, and Sherlock hated it when Myka got cocky.

"_Who. Is. My. Client?_" Sherlock demanded.

"Sherlock," Myka warned. Sherlock stood up stubbornly.

"If you aren't going to tell me then I'm not doing the case," She pouted. Sherlock started to walk away when suddenly she felt her sheet start to fall away from her body. Immediately she grabbed for it and managed to keep herself from completely flashing Buckingham Palace. She pressed part of the sheet against her chest to keep from showing anything in that direction, and she pressed another of the sheet against her lower back to do the same.

"Get off my sheet," she hissed venomously.

"Or what?" asked Myka's smug voice. Sherlock stood up straighter.

"I'll walk away."

"I'll let you."

"Children, please," John's voice cut in, "Sherlock, go put some clothes on while your up. Myka, stop being a bitch, okay? Now get off of her sheet. I will not have Sherlock walking around Buckingham Palace full-ass nude okay?"

Sherlock felt the pressure from her sheet disappear. She turned around, marched back, and grabbed her dress and shoes.

"Thank you."

* * *

"Okay John, you know what to do," Sherlock said. They were standing a block away from Irene's house and Sherlock had a plan.

"Sherlock, I'm not punching you in the face."

"Please John," Sherlock whined. John crossed his arms.

"Fine," She said as she started taking off her coat, "start tearing my dress." John's eyes widened, his cheeks color slightly.

"Absolutely not. People are talking enough the way it is. I'm not ripping up your clothes with you still in them," he said.

"But Jooohn!" Sherlock whined some more, "It has to look realistic."

"Then you do it," John said nodding his at her. Sherlock started pouting.

"Sherlock..." John started. Finally he sighed, "I assume this is supposed to look like rape?"

"Yep."

"Sherlock, I already know Irene. What's the point of this?" John asked.

"Because," Sherlock said, she sounded like she was whining again, "It will help me get in without suspicion."

"You're Sherlock Holmes, the worlds only consulting detective. You're famous. There's no way you'll get in without suspicion." Sherlock just puts her hands on her hips and gives him a "no arguing" look. John sighs. If he wanted to he could argue about it for hours.

He didn't want to. He got down on his knees and grabbed her dress.

"I swear to any god that can hear me, Sherlock, if I see a picture of this in the paper, on the telly, or in any god forsaken gossip article then I'm going to ruin you," John grumbles as he starts to try to rip the dress.

"Oh what could you do to me?" Sherlock laughed.

"You have no idea," John replied, then cringed when he realized how sexual that could sound. Sherlock got oddly quiet.

"Aha!" John cried as he got a rip started. "Okay, so how do I do this? Do you want me to do it carefully or all at once?"

"Oh, do it all at once," Sherlock says, "It will look more realistic that way."

"All the way up or no?"

"I don't care, start ripping and see where this goes."

"Quickly or slow?"

"Just start ripping."

"Do you-"

"Just rip it John!" Sherlock demanded. John finally just grunted and ripped open the dress, averting his eyes once it reached her lower thighs. He released the fabric and stood up after he had ripped what he thought was enough. He forced his eyes not to leave her face.

"There. That good enough?" he asked.

"No."

"No?"

"Nope."

"Then what's wrong with it?" He demanded. Sherlock sighed again.

"Did you even look where you were ripping?" she asked impatiently. Finally John looks down. Instead of ripping straight up, the fabric ripped more in a curved shape. Ending at the top of her left hip, revealing black lace panties. John sighed and grabbed the fabric (Of the dress, not her panties. For God's sake clean out your mind palace).

"Hold on to that bin." He commanded. Sherlock did and John ignored the way that the panties moved as she did. John suddenly just jerked the fabric as he moved away from Sherlock, effectively ripping it straight across the front. Sherlock shivered at the sudden breeze and hugged her arms across her chest.

Quickly John grabbed her coat and handed it to her, trying to ignore her purple-and-lace bra.

"Now John," Sherlock started, "I know you said you wouldn't punch me... but would you at least slap me? I mean, after all I did just get raped. My dress and vagina aren't going to be the only things that suffered." John shook his head.

"John Watson, if you don't slap me I am going to shoot your wall again." John looked away, gritting his jaw.

"I'll send Harriet drugs for Christmas."

SLAP!

"Oh, very good John," Sherlock said as she held the side of her face, "How about a punch this time."

"NO!" John said adamantly. "Damn it Sherlock! I'm not getting put away for domestic abuse!"

"Techiniquely it's public assault," Sherlock said, still rubbing her cheek.

"Techniquily I don't care! I'm not doing it. Your getting what you've got. Nothing more," John crossed his arms and stood even more adamant than before.

Sherlock knows when she's not going to be able to persuade him.

She sighs.

"Fine, lets go. You know what to do?"

"Yeah," John sighs with relief at Sherlock's compliance.

* * *

_Hu ahhh..._ was the noise that Sherlock woke up to. She stumbled out of bed to her coat. Fumbling around a little bit she finally fished her phone out.

**I'm not hungry. Lets have dinner.**

Sherlock figured that it must be from Irene. She had Sherlock's coat and phone last, must have gotten her number. Sherlock ignored it and stumbled towards her dresser. But for some strange reason, Sherlock didn't have much motor control and found herself crashing into her bookshelf, knocking several things off of it. As she tried to pick herself up John came into the room.

"What are you doing out of bed? You were drugged. Bed rest until it's out of your system, Doctor's orders. In case you didn't realize it, that would be me," he said as he picked her up off the floor and laid her back in bed.

"Meh whe ith thi?" Sherlock mumbled out.

"Where's who?"

"Eyeween."

"Oh, she's long gone. Egypt I think," John answered as he pulled the sheets over her.

Sherlock grasped his wrist. The only thing circulating in her drugged up brain now was that she wanted to cuddle.

"Thay," Sherlock whispered.

"What?" John asked. He furrowed his eyebrows.

"Thtay," Sherlock tried again more earnestly. John finally got out that she was trying to tell him to stay. He smiled softly.

"Sherlock I can't. It wouldn't be right," he tried to argue.

"Ith tha yo ohly ojecon?" she asked tiredly.

"Is that my only objection?" John guessed. Sherlock nodded. She looked like she was about ready to pass out again. John stopped and thought about it a little bit.

God help him, he would regret this.

"Yeah," he said quietly.

"Theh I doh car. Thay." She tugged a little harder on his wrist. He quickly looked at his watch.

"Well I guess I'll go to bed early," he said. John sat on the side of the bed, took of his shoes and pulled off his sweater. As soon as he had lain down, Sherlock attatched herself to him. She was curled up next to him with one arm across his abdomen and her head on his chest.

"Good night Sherlock," John whispered as he smoothed out her hair with one hand a placed the other one on her arm.

His response was Sherlock's steady breathing and warm body.

* * *

**_They slept together! Was it cute? Did you like it? I hope so! _**


	5. Chapter 5

_**Hello everyone, I'm back! Did you miss me? ;) Enjoy. (I don't own Sherlock)**_

* * *

"Halloo John," Jim Moriarty's voice warbled through John's phone. John cringed.

"Hello," John replied, looking across the table where Sherlock sat watching him.

"Are you reaaddyy to plaayy?" Jim sang. John stood up and gave Sherlock an apologetic smile. He walked out of the restaurant.

"Ready to play what?" John asked.

"Oh John... surely you haven't forgotten the game we had planned. You worked so hard at it," Jim answered. John looked around nervously.

"Oh, of course not, I just didn't know whether we were doing it now or putting it off a little while."

"John, John, John... Don't you know that if you set a date, you have to stick to it?"

"Sorry, I guess I've just been busy lately."

"Ah, yes. How _is_ Sherlock?"

"Um... busy."

"Really? Cause right now she looks impatient."

John whips around, searching everywhere for any of Moriarty's spies that he knows.

"Look Jim, I did most of the planning already, why don't you do the rest. That way, you can have more glory."

"And you'll be less responsible in front of the court."

"That's not it," John says.

"No, it's not. You're just cheating on me John. I thought we might be able to settle our differences and make up, but you're sounding less than eager John. But you see John, this is a kiss and make up situation. There is no breaking up at this point in our relationship. There is no getting out."

"I'm not trying to get out," John lies, "I'm trying to get _them_ to trust me. It's working for the most part."

"Sooo, you aren't be a double agent?"

"Would I lie to you?"

"In a heartbeat darling."

"Exactly. Which is why you can trust me, because we'd both lie to anyone in a heartbeat. You can trust a liar."

"Um... no. But what does it matter. Yooouu know what happens if you cross meeee."

"Yeah."

"Remember John, you're doing this for Harry."

"I remember. Say, when are we starting the Game?"

"Soon John... very soon. I'll let you know. Did you have fun playing with Irene?"

"I'd rather forget that."

"Ah but that's no fun Johnny boy."

"Good bye." John hung up on Moriarty. He really didn't care, he used to do it all the time, and Jim was used to it from him.

John walked back in the restaurant and to his and Sherlock's table.

"Hey," She said as she studied the menu.

"Hey again."

"Who was that?"

"Harry," John lied. Sherlock looked up and studied him for a moment, unsure of what came next. John didn't give her much time to think about it.

"Figure out what you want yet?"

"Umm... no," She said as she turned back to the menu.

"Fish maybe?"

"Thames," Sherlock replied. She hadn't so much as thought about eating fish since she went swimming in the Thames to search for clues.

"I offered to do it."

"I needed you to distract the client."

"Jack wasn't interested in me. It was you he was eyeballing," John pointed out.

"Jack was obviously bisexual, recently out of the air force, with a love for flirting. Someone who would prefer your company over mine," Sherlock said, momentarily looking up from her menu.

"What did Harry want?" Sherlock asked.

"She wanted to know if she could come over for Christmas," John lied, not even looking up from his menu. Sherlock pursed her lips before turning back to her menu.

"I think I want some chicken Alfredo."

"Okay," John said as he gestured for a waiter.

"So John..." Myka said, "Any update?"

"I don't think I can do this Myka."

"Do what?"

"Play him."

"You want to be free don't you?"

"Yeah but... no matter which side I choose, people will get hurt. If I choose his side then lots of people will get hurt. If I choose your side... people I love will get hurt. There's no winning this."

"Who will get hurt John?" Myka asked, "If you choose his side, who will get hurt?" John stood up from his place across from Myka and walked to a nearby window.

"There's this game... I helped him with the idea and the planning. You know that it's going to happen, you learned about it a while ago, you just don't know what it is. Well I do. He wants to call it The Great Game," John took a sip of his tea, "It's basically just a set of riddles for Sherlock to solve. But with major consequences if she can't."

"What are the riddles?"

"That's the problem, he was in charge of the riddles. I know what a few of them are, but I don't know when he'll use them or what the answers are."

John slowly walked back to Myka's desk and set down his tea cup.

"And if you join us?"

"My sister, Harry. And... Sherlock," John said slowly, "He'll play Sherlock like a violin then kill her when he gets bored. And Harry..." John grit his teeth, "Harry will be tortured and killed. And after I've mourned the two of them for what he deems a sufficient time, he'll kill me too."

"Where's your sister John?"

"I don't know," John replied, shaking his head despairingly.

"He said he had her somewhere safe, for now."

"And you have no idea where that is?" Myka pressed.

"He has several safe houses that he allowed me to hear rumors about, but I doubt that that's where she is hidden." John pressed a finger to his temple tiredly.

"Where are these safe houses?" John looked up and pointed at her.

"No. No no no. If I tell you, he'll find out. He might already know everything. I can't give you any more information."

"How are we supposed to help you if you can't help us help you?" John smiles slightly, jaw still set tightly, and turns to leave. Right before he exits he turns back to her.

"You can't."

"Anything Sherlock?" Greg asked. Sherlock sat, hands together under her chin and cross-legged, on his desk.

"He lies to me. All the time. But he doesn't do it like he wants to, you know. He does it more as how you would lie to a child, to protect them. He doesn't get hostile about anything you know. He's just tired from lack of sleep and he's lost weight because he's stopped eating."

"So..."

"Something has him stressed Detective. He's up all night working on it and it has him worried to the point of not eating. Unless, of course, he's depressed again. Mrs. Hudson told me that John used to never eat and hardly sleep because he didn't see the point in anything. She said he hardly slept and claimed it was because nightmares kept him from even trying. But other than those two signs, he doesn't show any other signs of depression.

"I think he's working on that event that you told me about."

"Learned anything about it?"

"No, he switches to bills or something equally dull every time he sees me. And he erases all computer and internet history when he gets off of it."

"Can't you, I don't know, seduce him or something?"

"John doesn't seduce. You should have seen him at Irene Adler's place."

"Whatever. Sherlock we have 3 days before when Moriarty said it would start."

Sally knocked on Greg's door.

"A package for you freak." (Apparently Sally didn't learn from last time she called Sherlock freak)

Sherlock opened the package and brought out a pink phone. She smirked and turned it on. There was a voice mail. It was several pips and a picture.

"What's that Sherlock?" Greg asked.

Sherlock smiled at the phone.

"This?.. This, Detective Inspector Lestrade, is a game. And today, the game is on."

John was running. He knew what Sherlock was going to try. He knew where she was going to go. He also knew who she was going to meet.

"Can't," huff, "let her," puff, "do this," he said to himself as he ran as fast as he could towards Scotland Yard. He turned towards the corner and skidded to a stop.

"Hello John," Sebastian Moran said. He was standing five feet away from John, pistol outstretched.

"Sebastian," John breathed, "What are you doing?"

Sebastian stepped to the side and grabbed a duffel bag. He smiled at John crookedly as he pulled out a vest of bombs. John took a few steps back and immediately noticed the red dots on his chest.

"I'm doing my job John. Time for you to play John."

"You could just ask," John said.

"Jim wasn't so sure that you'd go along with this part."

"_He_ didn't ask."

"If he had, would you say yes?"

"To having a bomb strapped to my chest?! Hell no!"

"So this is simpler."

"Yeah but not much nicer."

"We don't do nice in this business John, I thought you'd know this by now. After all, you've been in the business for about a year."

"I'm in the 'nice' department. You know, the department that learns all about how you're mom is lying in Bart's Hospital right now, trying to fight cancer."

Sebastian's jaw clenched.

"No arguing John."

John smiled, knowing he'd hit a nerve.

"Who's arguing?"

"... after all, isn't this what the whole games been abo-" Sherlock had turned completely around and froze. John stood there in a big coat. His face was clear of all emotion.

"What the hell John?" Sherlock asked. She hadn't been expecting to see him here. He had made it clear at the beginning of The Game that he didn't know anything about the clues.

Had he lied to her once again?

"Hello Sherlock... This is a twist up isn't it?"

Sherlock noticed how strangely John was acting.  
"John?"

John pushed the front of his coat apart, revealing a bomb strapped to his vest. A red dot appeared.

"Oh John..." Sherlock whispered.

"What should I make him say?"

"Stop it."

"Gottle O'geer, Gottle O'geer, Gottle O'geer."

"I said stop it!" Sherlock yelled. A door opened and closed. Jim Moriarty walked out into the open.

"Hello Sherlock," He purred. Sherlock stared at him, eyes wide.

"Hmm... I'm I really that forgettable? Jim Moriarty, Hiiii!"

"Did you like my little game?"

"It wasn't boring."

"It wasn't was it? Although I can't really take all the credit for myself. Our boy here had something to do with it too. Didn't you John," Jim said, he walked up to John and pinched his cheek.

"Stay away from him."

"Sherlock..." John started to say. Jim slapped him.

"Shut UP! This is the game Sherlock Holmes. The real one. Are you ready to play?"

"What... what do you want?" Sherlock asked slowly. Jim mocked her face.

"Oh Jim, what do you want? I'll do anything, just let my John live. Oh don't be so cliché Sherlock."

"Do you want to kill me?"

"No... Don't be so obvious."

"Then what do you want?"

"I. Want. You. To. Play. The. Game."

"People have died playing this game. Innocent people have died."

Jim looked disgusted.

"People have died Jim..." Jim mocked, "That's what PEOPLE DO!"

"Here."

Sherlock held out the USB in her hand.

"No no no..." Moriarty whined.

"I could have gotten those any day."

"Then what do I-"

"Look Sherlock..." Moriarty said, "I like playing with you. So, I'm going to let you two live okay?"

"But-"

"Shut up before I change my mind."

Sherlock shut her mouth, even though she had so many questions, she'd figure it out later.

Jim Moriarty turned to leave.

"Good bye Sherlock."

"See you later?"

"NOO YOOU WON'T"

The door slammed shut and the red dot left John's chest. Both John and Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief. Sherlock immediately rushed over to John and started ripping off the bomb vest. Very quickly it was near the other end of the pool.

Once the bomb was a distance away from them they could breathe easier.

"I'm glad that no one saw you ripping my clothes off," John said breathlessly.

Sherlock laughed away the fear that had had her partially crippled ever since she saw John enter the pool room.

"Isn't he something?" John asked with a nervous laugh.

"He has daddy and trust issues."

"No, really?" John asked sarcastically, "He only had his boyfriend aim a gun at me because he was didn't trust me to put a bomb on willingly."

Sherlock laughed again. At least she did before thinking about something.

"John... How involved were you in the Game?"

John opened his mouth to speak but a door slammed again.

"Sorry! I am soooooo changeable. It is a weakness... but to be fair to myself. It is my only weakness."

Sherlock felt that paralyzing fear again.

"You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't," Jim smiled, "I would try to convince you, but everything I would have to say already has crossed your mind."

Sherlock is frozen in place when the red dots reappear. John stood up.

"Then maybe mine has crossed yours."

John pulled a gun out from his pants and pointed it straight at Moriarty.

"Put the rifle down Sebastian!" John yelled as loud as he could.

"You can shoot me, I don't care. But this is a hair pin trigger, and I am very good at pressing buttons while dying. So stop aiming at Sherlock. You can let her go and I'll consider letting Jim live."

John smiled murderously.

"At least for a few seconds."

Jim looked honestly surprised.

"John?" he said, "Listen to me John. You don't want to do this."

"You're wrong Jim. I've wanted to do this for a long time."

Jim's eyes darted around wildly suddenly he smiled.

"Oh but John... you're forgetting someone. What about dearest Harriet?"

The John didn't even blink. He aimed the gun down a little bit and shot Jim's foot.

Jim let out a scream of pain and crumpled to the ground.

"There's only one way this is ending Jim," John said calmly, "With you dead."

Jim looked up with a smile through his pain.

"I've trained you well John. A professional killer. Ready to sacrifice himself to complete his mission if he has to," Jim gave out a laugh of pain, "But John... are you willing to sacrifice the woman you love?"

A bullet slams into the concrete, not an inch away, in angle, from Sherlock's head.

John lowers the gun slightly and starts backing up towards Sherlock.

Sherlock's brain had caught up to events by this point and she stood up and grabbed hold of John's free hand.

She leans into him and whispers in his ear.

"Vatican Cameos."

John aimed at the bomb and fired as he and Sherlock jumped into the water. John covered her body best he could as debris fell into the pool around them. A chunk of concrete hit him in the back and he struggled to stay conscious.

_For Sherlock._ He just kept chanting in his mind as he forced the concrete off of him. Finally after Sherlock started pushing up on him to tell him that she needed air, they surfaced. John immediately looked for red dots of Sebastian trying to get back at them. When, after ten seconds, he didn't see any, he sighed in relief. He managed to wade (a small chunk of the pool had been blown up after all, so the water was down) to the edge and pull him and Sherlock up onto the floor.

"Let's get outta here," John croaked.

Sherlock nodded her agreement and the both struggled up and headed through the doors.

Outside in the cool air Sherlock watched John and contemplated this experienced killer in front of her, whose hand didn't even shake when he aimed a gun at a man who held his sister captive. Who was so calm when faced with murdering someone and the chance of being killed. The man who was willing and prepared to give up his life to save her.

Dear god, she loved him.

"John..."

"Yeah Sherlock?"

"You were prepared to die for me." It wasn't a question, it was an observation.

"Yeah."

"Why? It's not very beneficial to you."

John laughed.

"Well Sherlock, I suppose people do crazy things for people they love."

The words. The conformation. It was exactly what Sherlock wanted to hear.

"You were prepared to blow up with me," John stated.

"Well John, I suppose people do crazy things for people they love."

John smiled and looked at her.

"So you forgive me?"

"What's there to forgive you for?"

"Oh you know, lying to you, scaring you, helping Jim," John said as he grabbed her hand. Sherlock turned towards him.

"John, you just blew up Jim Moriarty. I think all is forgiven."

Sherlock kissed him on the cheek as they heard the police sirens screaming towards them.

John put his arm around Sherlock as they waited.

Soon Lestrade was getting out of his car.

"What the bloody Hell went on here!?" He yelled at the couple.

"John saved the world. He also blew up a pool and the world's most evil consulting criminal that used to be currently alive," Sherlock told him cheerfully. John just smiled.

It was a long night, full of police reports and medical examinations, but John and Sherlock soon made it back home to Baker House.

They both went to change and take showers. John was done first and was watching telly when Sherlock walked into the sitting room.

"So," She started as she flopped down on the couch beside him, "You're now the world's only consulting criminal. How does it feel?"

"Kind of like it was when I was the world's second consulting criminal, except with less peers."

"What about Harry?"

"I'll find her."

"And if she's dead?"

"I'll mourn her."

"What if they try to use her against you?"

"I'll kill them."

Sherlock smiled.

"You sound like a dangerous man to be in love with, John Hamish Watson."

"I am, Wilma Sherlock Scarlet Holmes."

"Well at least you won't be dull."

"I'd never dream of it."

Sherlock smiled and got up.

"I'm going to bed," She said.

"Are you going to join me?"

* * *

_**R&R please! Love! XOXOXO**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Hello everyone. Warning, this may cause feels. :/ Please enjoy.**_

* * *

"Hello John," Sebastian Moran said when two thugs dragged John into his office. He walked up to him smugly.

"Sebastian," John groaned, "I had really hoped you were dead."

"I know. But then again, you killed my favorite consultant, so even if I was dead I'd come back as a ghost and haunt your ass," Sebastian said with a murderous smile.

"You really would, just to spite me."

Sebastian's face twisted into and expression of rage and he backhanded John across his already bruised and bloodied face.

"You took Jim away from me you little son of a bitch!" He yelled, "I will torture you till you don't remember what it feels like not to be in pain. And then, after your broken and so far gone that there's no return, you will be my prize and I will celebrate your defeat."

He hit John again and John spit out blood.

"Go, ugh, go fuck yourself," John said after spitting out a small puddle of blood. This time Sebastian kicked him in the stomach. John curled even more over himself as he tried to block out the pain. Finally the kicking stopped and John heard Sebastian chuckle.

"I have something I want to show you," he said maliciously. One of Sebastian's goons grabbed John by the hair and forced his head up so that he could see a TV.

"_A few months ago," _A pretty female reporter was saying, _"London was shell-shocked to learn of the apparent suicide of our favorite crime-solving duo's John Watson. But yesterday, the Scotland Yard released a statement about the late John Watson, calling him a 'Consulting Criminal' and saying that previous to his death, John Hamish Watson was on their criminal watch list. Now, statements and stories are pouring in from all over about Watson's life and supposed profession in crime. So far, Sherlock Holmes, the great Consulting Detective, has refused to talk to the press; saying only that 'John was the finest man I ever knew' and that Watson was 'a man to be respected and remembered for his kindness.' Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade admitted that the Yard had had some suspicions about Watson, but that he was never really considered a threat. Who was John Watson really? Co-consulting detective or Consulting Criminal? I'll keep you updated as I investigate farther into the story. This is Kitty Riley reporting from outside the Scotland Yard. Back to you in the studio."_

"Aren't you so proud of yourself John?" Sebastian taunted, "You're on the news. Of course, you had to break poor little ol' Sherlock's heart to do so, but hell it's worth it for your five minutes of fame right?"

"Go to Hell."

"I went to Afghanistan. Close enough," Sebastian said with a snarl.

"I know, you smug son of a bitch, I was there with you."

"You remember what it feel's like to experience real pain, don't you Johnny boy?" Sebastian said as he walked over to, and opened, a drawer and brought out a nasty looking torture tool.

"It's hard to forget."

"Well you're going to remember it even better now."

Sebastian had John strapped to a metal table.

"Hold still for Doctor Moran and you might get to live."

* * *

Sherlock Holmes stood, tears running down her usually stoic face, in front of a tombstone. The epitaph said "John H. Watson; Beloved Doctor and Friend. Honorable and Lovable Man."

It had been months since John's 250 meter jump down Reichenbach Falls, and Sherlock was changed. She hadn't taken a case since then, had moved out of Baker House, and started using drugs again. Myka and Lestrade had worked hard to keep her clean, but it was no use. Sherlock was depressed beyond anything that a quadruple plus homicide could fix.

Then the attacks on John started.

After Sally had released a statement to the press about John being a consulting criminal, nothing that John had ever done went without excruciating examination. He did no right; said no right; and thought no right. It pissed Sherlock off.

"John," She choked out as she stood at his grave.

"I... I'm sorry that I haven't done better. That I can't do better. I know you're probably ashamed of me, going back to the drugs and smoking and such; but it's so hard here in life with out you. Before you came into my life... I was depressed, suicidal even. I cut my wrists and on several occasions I attempted suicide via overdose. Each time, Myka or Lestrade found me in time to save me. But after I met you, I stopped. At first I didn't know why, it didn't make sense why you mattered to me..." Sherlock started crying even harder. She sank to her knees on John's grave and leaned her forehead against the cold, unfeeling stone.

"John... You were the _best_ man. The very best human being that I have ever known. And no one will ever convince me otherwise. I was just... I was _so_ alone, and I owe you _so_ much. But please John, just do one more thing for me okay. Just for me. One last favor. _Don't be dead_. Okay? Just please, stop it. Stop being- Please. Stop this. Please." Sherlock curled up into a tight ball on the ground.

"Please," she moaned.

Slowly Sherlock fell into a cold, dreamless sleep. Every so often she would moan the word "Please" in her sleep.

A scarred and burnt John watched silently from afar. Tears running down his discolored cheeks.

* * *

The Russian thugs beat John mercilessly as a quiet figure watched from afar. John screamed in pain as a barbed whip took out chunks of his back, but the scream was just reflexive. John barely felt pain after all he'd endured.

"Будет!" The figure finally said. The Russians stopped whipping John.

"Вы закончили. Уходи," the figure commanded and the Russians left. John sighed in relief after they were gone.

"You didn't have to scream so much you know," Myka said as she stood up out of the shadows, leaning on her umbrella.

"You didn't, gah, have to let them whip me for as long," John croaked from his spot where he was tied up.

"It needed to be convincing," Myka insisted as she walked over and untied John.

"Why are you here? I would have escaped tonight."

"I know. But the situation has gotten worse John."

"Yeah?" John asked as he painfully put on the jacket that Myka handed him. Myka was impressed at his pain tolerance, that he was able to let anything touch his cut-open flesh. Immediately the jacket was soaking up John's blood.

"Sherlock's almost died from overdose twice. And she's got some idiot named Mark that she's living with. He hasn't been a good influence on her," Myka said, "She needs you John. Desperately."

"Well then," John said as he struggled to his feet. Myka handed him her umbrella to use as support.

"I guess we better go get me cleaned up."

"I guess so."

* * *

Sherlock was sitting in a chair at a rehab center trying her hardest to ignore everyone around her. Every so often, another poor bastard would be taken for his session with the councilor. Sherlock just sat there trying to turn invisible.

"Sherluck Homes?" Some idiot with a horrid French accent said as he stood beside the chair Sherlock was perched on.

"It's Sherl_o_ck Ho_l_mes you insolent fool."

"It's not 'insolent fool'. It's 'Not Dead'," John Watson said. Sherlock whirled around in her chair at the sound of his voice.

"Are you ready to see the Doctor, Ms. Holmes?"

"John," Sherlock breathed slightly. Slowly she climbed out of her chair. Her expression was one of horror and disbelief.

"Sher-" a blonde man said as he walked around the corner.

"Who are you?" He asked. But then he got a good look at John's face.

"Oh my god."

"Not exactly," John said smugly.

"John," Sherlock repeated. John turned back to face her, his face- still bruised and with a few cuts- displayed obvious affection.

"He's-?"

"Doctor John Watson, at your service."

"John..."

"Yes Sherlock?"

"You're actually alive?"

"Unless I missed something."

"You're here?"

"Yes, but that's not the question, Sherlock. Ask me, what's the question?"

"What's the question?"

"Why are _you_ here?"

"You died."

"And you overdosed. Twice."

"You had committed suicide."

"You started cutting and doing drugs again."

"I was alone. _You_ left me alone," Sherlock spit out venomously.

"You were never alone Sherlock. I wouldn't have left if I thought you were alone."

"But I was alone."

"You were NOT alone," John emphasized, "You isolated yourself. You caused your isolation problems."

"They couldn't help me."

"And Mark could?" John asked accusingly. Sherlock's eyes dropped to the ground.

"How did you know my name?" Mark asked.

"Please," John said, "can you just shut up."

"John..."

"Yes Sherlock." John turned back to Sherlock. Sherlock slapped him. Hard. Hard enough that his head whipped to the side and he could feel one of the scabs on his neck, and one on his cheek, break. John barely noticed, just long enough to categorize the wound.

"I probably deserved that."

"Hell yeah you do!" Sherlock screamed at him, "YOU DIED JOHN! I watched you commit suicide! You don't deserve a slap, you deserve to be killed!"

"I did that once, didn't agree with me."

Sherlock gave a sharp laugh that sounded suspiciously hysterical.

"I was ready to kill myself, John. Because you left me."

"I know," John said softly.

"How could you possibly know?!"

"I kept an eye on you. I couldn't be with you, but I could still try to keep you safe from everyone. Except for the past two months, I've been watching you."

"And you didn't think, for one minute, to talk to me?! I went to your grave! I wept and mourned for you!"

"I was there. When you slept at my grave."

"You were... you were at your grave. When I...?"

"Yes."

"I don't believe you."

"You begged me to come back for you. To live again. So here I am," John said with a soft, sad smile. He opened his arms wide to gesture his existence. Sherlock finally noticed the blood running down John's cheek, and the blood that was soaking through his shirt.

"Shit," She said as she grabbed her scarf and dabbed John's cheek.

"Sherlock..." John breathed. Sherlock looked into his eyes, they were full of pain and love.

"I wish I hadn't had to do it. But I did, and I'm sorry."

Sherlock pressed her eyes shut trying to block out the world. But memories of pain and love, tears of sadness and joy, were parading around her mind palace.

"Don't ever leave me again John. Promise?" She mumbled quietly.

"Never again. I promise."

"Can we leave."

"Yeah."

Sherlock and John left and went to Baker House, leaving Mark in the dust, bewildered.

* * *

_**Yay! Happy ending! **_

_**In case you were wondering:**_

_**Вы закончили. Уходи, means "You have finished. Go away."**_

_**And: Будет! means "Will!"; "Stop!"; or "That's enough!" in the context I'm using it in it means "that's enough!"**_


End file.
